


three points where two lines meet

by figure8



Series: run this town [1]
Category: C-Pop, NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Organized Crime, POV Outsider, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prostitution, kinda i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: It is a privilege, Xukun knows. Being allowed to watch.





	three points where two lines meet

**Author's Note:**

> [arrives to npc fandom months late holding starbucks] hello everybody who wants threesomes and organized crime AUs
> 
> this is part of a series but it definitely can stand alone. i needed to get it out of my system.  
> i didn't warn for dubcon because i don't think it applies here in the way fandom usually means it, but be aware that 1) everyone is emotionally constipated and no one really talks about what they want in clear terms and 2) one of the characters is a sex worker, with all the questions of consent this entails. if there's anything else you think i should tag, please do tell me!
> 
> title from tesselate by alt-j

_Triangles are my favorite shape_

_Three points where two lines meet_

_Toe to toe, back to back, let's go_

_My love, it's very late_

_'Til morning comes, let's tessellate_

 

Everyone believes Ziyi is the one who runs the show. _Fools_ , Xukun thinks, as he watches Ziyi kneel between Zhengting’s legs, their gazes locked.

It’s an easy mistake to make. Zhengting is as elusive as water trickling through open fingers; a shadow in the moonlight. Ziyi is bold and tall, always there, serenely towering over Shanghai’s network of organized crime like he was born to rule--and in a way, he was. People are used to Ziyi giving orders, Ziyi cutting heads with a snap of his fingers, Ziyi making money rain.

In a way, right now, Xukun is more powerful than most big names in the business. It’s one of the things he actually loves about this job; how men forget themselves around his pretty face, and allow him to _know_ things. Knowledge is priceless. Information is the most precious currency. Ziyi closes his eyes as Zhengting traces his bottom lip with his thumb, and Xukun knows Ziyi has completely erased his presence from his mind. Zhengting, on the other hand, is still acutely aware of it. He glances at Xukun nonchalantly, but Xukun has made a living out of reading men like him. Zhengting doesn’t want him here. Xukun doesn't take it personally. He recognizes the slight tremor in Zhengting’s hands, the shortness of his breath. Zhengting wants to live in a world where he can be alone with Ziyi. He shouldn’t worry, Xukun thinks. Ziyi looks at him like Zhengting is oxygen and Ziyi is drowning.

In any other set of circumstances, Xukun would get up and leave, but Ziyi quite literally pays him to sit there and look pretty. So Xukun stays. It’s not the first time Zhengting is in the room while Xukun’s on the clock, but it _is_ the first time he does anything more than watch. Usually, he sits in the big armchair Xukun’s currently lounging on, observes as Ziyi fucks Xukun into the mattress. He doesn’t even touch himself, he just watches. If it was anyone else, Xukun would probably feel a little insulted, but he’s learned a lot about Zhengting in the past few weeks. Enough to guess that he gets off on waiting. Enough to be thoroughly impressed by his self-control.

Zhengting has his hand in Ziyi’s hair now, gentle but firm pressure guiding Ziyi as he mouths at the outline of his hard cock through his black slacks. It’s a pretty hot scene, Xukun has to admit.

Wang Ziyi, whose sole entry into a room can turn armed men into crying babies, doesn’t get on his knees. Wang Ziyi doesn’t submit. Wang Ziyi, the handsome gangster who picked up Xukun from a brothel run by his very own black society, who smirks at his enemies even when guns are drawn, who Xukun has seen with a stranger's blood on his face; Wang Ziyi doesn’t cede an inch.

But this isn’t Wang Ziyi. The doors are closed. His tailored jacket is on the floor, his gun and holster were discarded hours ago, his phone is switched off on the nightstand. This isn’t Wang Ziyi, this is…

“ _Zi_ ,” Zhengting whispers against Ziyi’s Adam’s apple. He’s hauled him up now, still settled between his legs, hand still fisted in Ziyi’s hair. Ziyi’s white dress shirt is wide open, a few pearl buttons on the hardwood because Zhengting doesn’t _care_. Zhengting is still fully dressed. Xukun takes a deep breath, palms himself lazily through his briefs. No one has given him any sort of direction in a while, so he figures he’s allowed.

Zhengting sucks a trail of angry red marks right under Ziyi’s collarbones, secrets Ziyi will be carrying with him to work tomorrow. Xukun wonders if he can get away with touching him there through his clothes when they meet again, if that comes soon enough. He can _see it_ , Ziyi hissing under his breath, his eyes darkening. He’d slam Xukun against a wall as soon as they have privacy. Xukun fully takes himself in hand at the thought, lets a soft moan escape his mouth. Imagines Ziyi’s large hands pinning him down, is so into it it takes him a minute to realize someone is finally addressing him.

“You want him?” Zhengting asks, eyes fixed on Xukun. It feels a little bit like a trap, but Xukun still answers truthfully.

“Yeah.” He’s a little surprised by how hoarse his voice sounds. “Yeah, I want him.”

_I want you_ , he doesn’t say, because he doesn’t think Zhengting is something he has the right to want. But it’s true.

“Come here,” Zhengting orders. Xukun pushes himself off the armchair, takes the three steps separating him from the bed. Zhengting lets go of Ziyi, leans back on the mattress and props himself up on his elbows, the picture of casualness. “You can kiss him,” he says, and Xukun assumes that’s still directed at him, considering Ziyi looks too dazed to be taking any sort of initiative right now.

So Xukun kisses him, hands cupping Ziyi’s face, bodies pressed flush against each other. He starts slow and sweet, bites tentatively and hums contentedly when Ziyi grants him access. It’s different than all the other kisses they’ve shared. Ziyi is pliant and warm, letting himself be guided. Xukun maneuvers them so that Ziyi is sitting at the very edge of the bed, Xukun on his knees before him--a mirror image. Zhengting’s gaze meets his, and there’s a sliver of approval there. _Oh_ , Xukun thinks, feeling his cheeks redden, _this is new_.

“You can suck him off,” Zhengting says, the same way he’d say _you’re dismissed_ or _close the door as you leave_. Only his blown pupils betray his interest. “But don’t let him come.”

This is familiar and easy. Xukun has done it a hundred times. His technique is impeccable--this is his _job_ , after all, this is a well-honed skill.

What is less familiar is Zhengting right behind Ziyi, kissing Ziyi’s neck, eyes meeting Xukun’s every time Xukun looks up through his eyelashes. Xukun takes Ziyi deep in his throat and Ziyi throws his head back, groaning, and Zhengting takes the occasion to graze his teeth along Ziyi’s jawline.

“Good boy,” Zhengting says, and once again Xukun isn’t quite sure who he’s referring to. It doesn’t matter, because Xukun feels the effect of the words deep in his gut, and Ziyi whimpers, hips bucking. Xukun pulls back with a wet _plop_. He knows what sort of picture he’s presenting--lips glistening and red, cheeks flushed. Both the men above him stare hungrily.

If this was anyone else, if this were happening anywhere else, he would cock his head, drawl “You wanna fuck my mouth, hot stuff?” in his sultriest voice. But this is Ziyi, who always treats him to breakfast the morning after. This is Ziyi, who took off his Armani jacket and gave it to a shivering homeless man one night as they were walking along the old port. This is Ziyi, who can be terrifying but chooses to be kind to Xukun. This is Ziyi, stripped down and defenseless, and Xukun can't find it in himself to be fake. He runs his hands up Ziyi’s thighs, appreciates the way Ziyi’s breath catches under the caress. “You wanna?” he asks, and he sounds… raw, small. Ziyi reaches for him. “You can, if you want,” Xukun continues. “Take whatever you want. Take whatever you need.”

Zhengting observes curiously, chin resting on Ziyi’s shoulder. Ziyi cards his fingers through Xukun’s hair, maintains a loose hold at the back of his neck. His eyes are still questioning, somehow.

“Go ahead,” Zhengting says, and that settles it.

Xukun takes Ziyi into his mouth again, but this time he wills himself to relax entirely, until his nose brushes against Ziyi’s pubic bone. Ziyi’s grip on his hair tightens, but he’s still immobile, still so self-restrained. Xukun wants to see him lose it. He bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, jaw as lax as possible. Above him, Zhengting is murmuring sweet nothings into Ziyi’s ear, and at some point _something_ he says must have unlocked something in Ziyi, because almost out of nowhere, suddenly Xukun gets what he wants. Ziyi swears under his breath and then he’s moving his hips, thrusting in and out of Xukun’s mouth and _keeping him there_ , fingers digging into Xukun’s scalp.

“Ah,” Ziyi grunts, and Xukun realizes it’s the first time he’s heard Ziyi’s voice since Zhengting walked into the room tonight, “Ah, _fuck_.”

“ _Good_ boy,” Zhengting says again, but this time the target of the praise is unmistakable.

“I’m close,” Ziyi warns, and Xukun can tell he’s trying to pace himself. It’s useless anyway--a second later, Zhengting tells Xukun to stop.

Xukun feels a little dizzy, out of breath and turned on like all hell. He tries to watch Zhengting undress himself, fast and efficient, but the edges of his vision go blurry.

“Get on the bed, both of you,” Zhengting demands. He only has his underwear left on. God, he’s insanely pretty. He blushes the prettiest pink, all the way down to his chest. “Back against the headboard,” he tells Ziyi, and then he turns to Xukun. “You just stay there for now.”

Then Zhengting is straddling Ziyi’s lap, wrapping a steady hand around the headboard, breath ghosting over Ziyi’s lips.

It is a privilege, Xukun realizes. Being allowed to watch. Maybe Zhengting himself doesn’t understand it yet, but Xukun knows. This… this could cost Zhengting his empire. This could cost both of them their _lives_. There are so many ways it could go wrong. But Xukun gets it. He really does.

Zhengting kisses Ziyi like he’s claiming him, curling his other hand around the back of his neck and licking into Ziyi’s mouth. Ziyi arches up into the kiss, seeking contact, skin against skin. For a while they just stay like this, making out like teenagers. Then Zhengting pulls away, and Ziyi honest to God _whines_ at the loss. Xukun wonders vaguely if he’s hallucinating. Zhengting takes off his briefs in one swift movement, way too graceful for someone in his situation, and grabs the bottle of lube on the nightstand. He coats his fingers and sinks them into himself, opens himself up with clinical precision, his quiet grunts the only sound resonating in the room. Ziyi looks like he’s about to die.

By the time Zhengting finally lowers himself onto Ziyi’s cock, Xukun is thinking a little more clearly. He’s still _so fucking hard_ , but he’s pushed the urgency of it to the back of his mind. There’s something in the air.

Zhengting looks… peaceful, almost, as he settles his weight on Ziyi’s lap, eyes closed and inhaling deeply, getting used to the stretch.

“Zheng _ting_ ,” Ziyi calls out, visibly strained, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch.

Zhengting opens his eyes and reaches out, pressing his palm against the side of Ziyi’s cheek, and Ziyi leans into it, never once taking his eyes off Zhengting’s face.

“Breathe, baby,” Zhengting says gently, like he’s not the one with a dick up his ass.

At the first roll of Zhengting’s hips, Ziyi’s hands automatically come to settle on his waist. They paint a surreal picture, under the dimmed neon lights, Zhengting riding Ziyi like he was made for it. Xukun swallows with difficulty as Zhengting braces both arms on either side of Ziyi’s head and brings their foreheads together reverently. He can’t quite make out the whispers, but Zhengting sounds downright saccharine, and Ziyi is looking back at him like a man seeing the sun for the first time. It makes something constrict in Xukun’s belly, somewhere among all this frustrated desire. He starts jerking himself off again mainly in the hope that it will make the feeling disappear.

Ziyi hits a particular angle and Zhengting loses his composure, grinding his hips down hard and moaning, “Yeah, _fuck_ , right there.” The headboard is slamming against the wall like a metronome. It’s all a little bit too obscene, in a way Xukun isn’t exactly used to--and Xukun has seen… _a lot_.

“Zhengting,” Ziyi gasps, and Xukun can see that his knuckles are almost white from gripping so tight. Zhengting is going to be sporting bruises for _days_.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Zhengting,” Ziyi repeats, and this time he sounds almost annoyed, which shouldn't be as funny as Xukun finds it. “Can I--I’m almost there, please, Can I--?”

“Yeah,” Zhengting pants, and God, his voice is wavering. “Come for me.”

If anyone ever asks Xukun to define beauty, he has an answer now. Zhengting in all his glory, head thrown back, hand around his own cock and sweat rolling down his shoulder blades. Or maybe it’s Ziyi, right about now, face buried in Zhengting's chest to muffle his yelling, body shaking with the force of his orgasm.

Xukun comes too, stroking himself frantically through it, painting hot white lines over his stomach. He watches hazily as Zhengting slowly untangles himself from Ziyi, disappears into the adjacent bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth, and for a fraction of a second Xukun doesn’t understand why--Ziyi doesn’t really need to be cleaned up. But Zhengting climbs back up on the bed and kneels right next to Xukun, runs the warm towel gently down Xukun’s abs.

It’s the tenderness that gets him. There is no other explanation for what Xukun does next, how unprofessional it is, sliding a hand up to cup Zhengting’s face and bring it close enough to kiss when he’s explicitly been told that he can’t touch him. Zhengting makes a small surprised sound at the back of his throat but he kisses back, languid and lazy.

They all fall asleep on the large bed, Xukun facing Ziyi, Zhengting’s arm draped over Ziyi, his fingertips grazing Xukun’s chest. It’s too warm to be comfortable. Xukun sleeps like a baby anyway.

 

When Xukun wakes up the next morning Ziyi is laying next to him, eyes wide open. Zhengting is gone.

“Hey,” Xukun rasps, rolling to his side so that he can gaze back at Ziyi.

“Hey yourself,” Ziyi smiles, and ah, _ah_. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

While they get ready, Ziyi is uncharacteristically clingy. He peppers kisses along Xukun’s bare shoulder while he’s combing his hair in front of the mirror; keeps brushing two fingers against Xukun’s wrist, blindly looking for his pulse point.

“You look happy,” Xukun tells him later, around a mouthful of Eggs Benedict. Ziyi sips his black tea diligently before answering.

“Last night,” he starts, and God, is he _blushing_? “Zhengting, Zhengting never--”

It’s hilarious, seeing Ziyi stumble on words. Xukun knows from experience it’s not talking about _sex_ that got him flustered.

“That was your first time fucking him?” Xukun asks. Ziyi nods hastily. “You looked at ease,” Xukun shrugs. It’s not exactly true. Ziyi looked like he was about to pass out for half the night, but Xukun isn’t going to tell him that. “You know him well.”

“I’ve known him all my life,” Ziyi says, and then he frowns. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

Xukun almost throws back _you pay me to be discreet_ , almost winks. Instead, what leaves his mouth is a brutally honest, “No, you probably shouldn’t be.”

Later, as they’re walking back to Ziyi’s apartment, Ziyi stops him right in the middle of the street, pushes him up against a brick wall in broad daylight and steals the breath right out of his lips.

“Don’t go back,” he groans into the crook of Xukun’s neck. “Stay with me.”

“You can hire me for the day,” Xukun says playfully, but he knows that’s not what Ziyi is asking.

“I don’t have to hire you for shit, Kun,” Ziyi says, “I am literally your boss’s boss.”

The reminder stings, for some reason. Xukun pulls away.

“Yeah,” he smiles bitterly, “And don’t I forget it, right?”

Ziyi’s expression turns from longing to horrified. “What? No, I didn’t--I swear, I didn’t mean it like that. Xukun--”

“I’m booked tonight,” Xukun interrupts him. “So I need to go back--back to my place, change, and. You know.”

“Xukun,” Ziyi says again.

“You’re in love with him,” Xukun says. Ziyi looks away. “You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you, or at least… he’s _something_ with you alright. We both know why you’ve been fucking me, when you could have anyone else in your bed for free. But you’ve got him, now, so you don’t need me anymore.”

“Xukun,” Ziyi says for the third time, only now it sounds desperate. “You don’t understand.”

Xukun shakes his head. “ _You_ don't understand. You think you’re the first idiot to think he could _save me_?”

“I don’t want to save you,” Ziyi says, “I just want you around.” He grimaces as soon as the words tumble from his mouth. “That sounds even worse. Can we please have this conversation inside?”

_Please_ , Ziyi said. Xukun remembers suddenly where he is and who he’s talking to, and how immensely stupid of him it is to argue. This is Wang Ziyi. Xukun is no one. Xukun _belongs_ to Ziyi. If Ziyi killed him, no one would ever know.

But Ziyi said _please_.

“If I said no,” Xukun asks tentatively, “Would you just let me leave?”

“Your stuff is still upstairs,” Ziyi points out. “But yes. Of course.”

“There is nothing evident about it.”

“There is to me.”

“Okay,” Xukun says.

Ziyi wrinkles his nose, confused. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Xukun repeats. “Let’s have this conversation inside.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi [on twitter](http://twitter.com/pinkhairtaeyong)!


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